The Sorrow In My Heart
by mychakk
Summary: All she had needed to do was to make a simple phone call. Implied BB. One-shot.


**Title: The Sorrow In My Heart  
****Characters/Pairings: **canon couples  
**Genre: **Angst/Romance  
**Warnings: **none  
**Rating: **T  
**Chapters: **1/1  
**Status: **complete

**Disclaimer****: **I don't own Bones nor the characters. Just playing with them.

**Summary: **All she had needed to do was to make a simple phone call. Implied BB. One-shot.

**xxx**

**The Sorrow In My Heart**

**xxx**

"_That I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart." (Rom 9:2, King James Bible)_

**xxx**

Brennan sighed and tried to settle more comfortably in her sleeping bag. The Maluku Islands were hot during the day, but the cold breeze from the Ocean brought quite a chilling air during the night. She turned on her side trying to fall asleep. Unsuccessfully. She was having a hard time sleeping the longer she stayed away from home. She and Ms. Wick were going to be sent on a special mission across the jungle to search for possible remains in a few days. Yet… she could not really find any excitement in that new development.

She missed home.

And Angela and Hodgins, and Cam and all her other interns.

She missed her Dad and bi-weekly talks with Russ and her nieces.

And she missed Booth.

Oh, how _much_ she missed him.

She had thought coming here - to participate in this dig - would allow her to gain a perspective; would help her gather her thoughts; would give her time to sort and reign in any overflowing, overwhelming feelings.

How wrong she was.

Ever since she got here, her mind has never steered away from her partner for long. She could see his charming smile if only she closed her eyes, and she could hear his joyous laughter if she was left alone working, and she could even smell his aftershave if she inhaled too deeply.

But mostly, she could see – and did see – the hurt, sad eyes of his when she slept.

She was good at compartmentalizing, she knew that. She always has been. So she applied her tested method and put away her feelings as much as she could. She worked meticulously, throwing herself into the task of discovering the possible missing link to the human evolution. Ms. Wick has never admired her more.

She has never despised herself more.

She could work during the day, but she could not prevent the thoughts and feelings form surfacing during the night.

Just like during this chilly night.

Six months.

Six months ago they parted at Dulles.

Six months ago she saw him for the last time, heard his voice for the last time, lost herself in his eyes for the last time...

Six months since she has decided she needed time and space and cut off any contacts she had with him and the rest of her team.

And tonight it was too much.

She curled into a fetal position and squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to be strong. She was Temperance Brennan! She has been alone most of her adult life and she has never needed anyone, not since her family had deserted her when she was fifteen. She has learned to live by herself and on her own, and she could not comprehend what has changed recently to make her- to make her so _miserable_ right now.

She turned in her bed once more, looking for a more comfortable position, hoping the sleep would claim her finally. But nothing happened. On nights like this – when she felt really low and when only the soft, honey sound of _his_ voice, rambling in her ear over the phone, could bring her any relief – she felt like crying. Like really crying.

So far she has managed to live through those kinds of irrational mood swings. She compartmentalized and recited bones; and reminded herself of all the forensic techniques in de-fleshing of the human remains; and catalogued all kind of possible injuries that could be found in the skeleton. And somehow, in the dark corner of her bedroom, she managed to wait till the sunrise, when another day of work awaited, and she could focus on something else instead of her perpetual longing.

But not this night. She sat up slowly, pulling the sleeping bag over her hunched shoulders. She looked around her room slowly, finally focusing on the crude but stable desk, near the door.

There it was.

The satellite phone.

Before she could stop herself, she unzipped the sleeping bag, got out, and walked silently to the device, ignoring the chilling air surrounding her. Her hand picked up the phone on its own, and dialed the complicated number; one that was committed to her memory ever since she saw it in that last email sent to her a little over five months ago; the one she ignored like all the others before it.

She listened to the dialing, redirecting, and connecting. She rasped her clearance code over the static, before she could stop herself. And then she waited.

"US Bagram Airfield Base, Afghanistan. State your name, and the reason for calling." A young male voice asked tiredly.

She paused; took a breath. "Dr. Temperance Brennan, International Maluku Islands Project, Indonesia. I need to speak with Sergeant Major Seeley Booth, please."

"Please, wait." Came a simple reply.

She listened to the jingle mixing with the static and bit her lip. She shouldn't have called. She should just click and disconnect the phone and never make the call again. She was never this needy. What was wrong with her? She needed to press the disconnecting call, right no-

"Bones?"

Her throat constricted, her eyes filled with tears, and her breath shortened. She whizzed loudly once, gripping the phone more tightly with her fist. "B-booth." She breathed.

"Bones! What's wrong? Are you alright?" he asked her panicky.

"I-I-" _miss you, need you, lo-_ "I'm fine." She said.

"You sure?" he asked her still concerned.

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure." She assured him, but even to her ears her voice sounded far too shaky.

"Really?" he insisted. Just like he always did, and her heart clenched.

"Yes, really." She protested, trying to gather her composure.

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"If you say so." He told her slowly, clearly not believing her words at all.

There was a pause.

"So why did you call?" he asked her, trying to sound normal. "Not that I'm not happy, I'm glad to hear form you. I just-"

Hearing his voice and the concern and the infliction and the familiar intones - it was too much. The tears flowed unabashedly down her cheeks, and she sobbed once, interrupting him suddenly.

"Oh, _Bones_." He moaned, alarmed. "Bones, baby, what's wrong? Tell me, please?" he pleaded, the panic returning to his voice.

She sobbed and could not control herself, and he listened to her, murmuring soothing words.

"I-I'm sorry." She rasped eventually, whipping her eyes.

"It's alright. Just tell me what's wrong. Please." He begged, and she could hear the desperation in his voice.

"I…" she felt foolish, so, so foolish for calling him.

"You know you can tell me anything." He assured her gently, pleadingly. "I'm here, Bones, I'm here."

"But you're not!" she shot back suddenly. Desperately.

There was a startled pause on the other side and so she continued.

"You're not… I'm here and you're there and I- I can't. I just- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called." She finished lamely.

"No, Bones. Don't you _dare_ disconnect." He told her fiercely, dangerously. How could he know what she wanted to do?

But she stilled at his tone, listening, but staying silent herself.

"Bones." He followed gently. He took a deep breath. "I m-miss you too. I miss you. I miss you so, so much. It hurts and I barely sleep and I want to go to those Maloopoo Islands of yours and get you in my arms and never let you go." He poured out suddenly.

A beat of a heart.

"It's Maluku." She corrected him automatically, but her voice sounded lighter.

He let out a short, full of relief, bark of laughter. "Maluku, Maloopoo – sounds the same." He told her and she could hear the teasing tone in his voice.

"It does not. There aren't any Maloopoo Islands." She told him, sounding more like her old self.

"Sure they are, they are just not discovered yet." He replied her, teasingly again.

"It's a very low possibility." She told him, feeling suddenly so much better.

"But still a possibility." And she could hear the full smile of triumph in his voice, and imagined him standing with that charming grin of his.

"You are just impossible." She shook her head, a small smile dancing on her lips.

"And you love me for it." He shot back.

She took a sharp, loud breath.

An awkward pause followed.

"Um, I…" he mumbled but stopped suddenly.

She gripped the phone more tightly, her heart beating so heard she felt as if it might jump out of her chest any moment now, although she knew it was not humanly possible.

"Um, what time is it there, Bones?" Booth started suddenly, still sounding a little awkward. "Isn't it like the middle of the night? It's getting near the curfew here, now." He rambled.

"It's after one." She told him.

"Why are you not sleeping?" he asked, again concerned.

"It's nothing, I just couldn't sleep." She told him, evassively.

"Sure." He said, but his tone clearly indicated he didn't believe her. Why should he, after such a meltdown, anyway? She scowled at herself. She should have never called. Why did she have to call him?

"Are you at least eating properly?" he asked again.

"Booth!" she whined at him. "I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" he asked her gravely. "I don't know. How could I? You haven't kept in touch." He finished, sounding suddenly bitter.

"Oh." She made a small sound, looking down, ashamed.

He sighed. "Why didn't you keep in touch, Bones?" he asked her tentatively.

"I thought… that I needed time and space." She told him reluctantly.

"You _thought_ you needed?" he asked, clearly for clarification.

"Yes, I thought." she told him.

"And did you need it?" he asked, sounding a bit restrained.

"I think… I was wrong in my thinking." She admitted even more reluctant now, but unable to lie to him.

He sighed slowly. "Will you keep in touch now?" he asked, and she could hear the not-exactly-masked hope in his voice.

She was silent for a few seconds. "Yes, I will."

"Good." There was no mistaking the relief in his voice. "Emails are better, you know? Next time you call I might not be able to take it." He advised.

"I know." She nodded, even if he could not see her. "I… I will write you, I promise." She vowed more to herself than to him.

"Good." He said happily, and then sighed again. "Listen, Bones, I need to go, the curfew is in a few minutes." His voice sounded regretful.

"Oh. Right." Her shoulders dropped, but she gathered her courage. "I… miss you, Booth." She whispered.

"I miss you too, Bones." He said not masking his emotions at all. "But we'll write, and set some phone calls, and in six months we'll see each other in the Mall-"

"-at the Coffee Cart." She finished. They would see each other eventually. And they will write and she might even hear his voice again soon.

"That's right." She could imagine him nodding at her. "So smile for me, and go to sleep. I'm waiting for your email." He finished lightly.

"Alright." She smiled gently.

"I really gotta go." He said sorrowfully.

"Ok. Bye, Booth." She nodded.

"Bye, Bones." He paused and she heard him take a breath as if he wanted to add something, but he disconnected the call.

She put down the satellite phone on her desk and got into her sleeping bag. Her heart felt lighter and warmer and fuller. She closed her eyes; a sudden peace – one she hadn't felt for a long, long while – overwhelmed her. She fell asleep, unaware that the very next day Booth was going to rescue a perky, blonde and insistent war correspondent, but this time he would not be impressed with her and her advances at all.

xxx

She startled from her dream suddenly, disoriented, her heartbeat accelerating. Taking a few calming breaths, she looked around her, seeing her bedroom in the Apartment in DC. Nothing has changed. Everything looked the same it did when she returned to Washington after Caroline's emergency call into the seventh month of her dig in Maluku Islands. Everything looked the same it did for the past two months since her return from the Dig.

She adjusted the heavy blanked over her shoulders and curled into fetal position. She was still trying to get warm over the chill she got when she went to Woodland trying to understand what Dr. Lauren Eames was doing there in the first place.

She shivered.

Maybe that car should have hit her after all...

No. She should not- would not think like that.

But the fresh memory of that talk – and tears – and _sorrow_, oh, the sorrow! – in _his_ SUV was like an open bleeding wound.

Her dream - the one she just had about that darkest night during her stay in Maluku - flashed in her mind.

The reality that _has_ happened. And the dream that _could have_ happened.

A lone tear slid down her cheek.

All she had needed to do back then was to make that one damn phone call.

**xxx**

**End**

**xxx**

**AN **_Just an angsty piece that didn't want to leave me alone. Written in about three hours. Because I think Hannah would not have a chance if only Brennan has kept in touch with Booth. But she did not._

_ANY reviews are greatly appreciated. _


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